


Perfecting Change

by clehjett



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Body Modification, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clehjett/pseuds/clehjett
Summary: Will finds himself the subject of fascination and interest of a visitor from another planet. But what that interest will lead to....he could never have guessed.
Relationships: Jack Crawford & Will Graham, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	Perfecting Change

**Author's Note:**

> I want to put non-con at the ratings but its not rape so its not quite right.
> 
> I got inspired by this one gif of Mads i have no idea where its from but its so creepy i just had to write something.
> 
> There's plenty of alien stuff out there of this variety in the Hannibal fics but i just wanted to take a stab at my own.
> 
> Please enjoy it..
> 
> Seriously
> 
> Enjoy it or i sad

Hannibal’s face came in and out of focus. Will tried to blink but it only made his head spin more painfully out of orbit. Hannibal was staring down at him. There was a red gash where his ‘human’ blood was – where Will had slashed at him. His face was somber with concentration. But when he noticed Will had regained consciousness, the expression turned tender and soft with a kind smile. Will wondered which of those faces was really Hannibal. 

It had been all relatively boring and normal the morning the Alien Visitors arrived. As had that morning when Will walked into to work with Hannibal as a liaison for the whole surreal exercise of alien-human relations. He had been selected from thousands of people; either working in government, military or scientific backgrounds. As a federal employee and a profiler with uncanny empathy, Jack had been quick to ‘volunteer’ him for the task. Something Zeller had been sour about, not surprising since he had vocally been eager to be part of the largest project mankind had ever undertaken. Price had been disappointed, but he had been confident of his friendship with Beverly and his ease with Will that he could worm some ‘deets’ from both of them, since they had both been submitted to the Project. 

Will had been reluctant. Having already been sick of humans, he was not even the least bit curious about anything else, let alone bloody aliens. But when he had walked into Jack’s office that first morning, discussing a murder, with a new consultant. He had been at first offended then surprised, and dare he say it, intrigued that the consultant had...not been human. He had been remarkably.... normal. There was the otherworldly quality about him – the immaculate dressing (the way aliens seemed to have picked up on human grooming being an important factor in first impressions... They had only needed to take a look at Will for them to see that...). He had deep eyes that seemed to stare into your soul, that Will assumed was probably the Visitor being observant in a foreign environment. And he had this.... wall to his emotions and thoughts. The way humans never were. Of course, he had emotions, the way others of his kind were similar to humans. But his was... different. Carefully curated, like his clothes. 

They had got along rather smashingly. Halted at first, but after Will had shown himself to be a competent profiler and a good shot, having saved Mrs. Hobbs and her daughter from Hobbs himself, he had to admit that he had intrigued the alien. 

Which of course, brought him to his current predicament. Will tested the bonds on his wrists. Strapped down to a soft but solid table under strobing alien lights. They were soundly tight and he could not even lift his head to see his body and what Hannibal was doing with it. His head was swimming with a headache, and he wondered if he was concussed with the ringing in his ears and his eyes spinning wildly out of control. As well as his heart. 

He had stumbled upon Hannibal’s drawings. At first, he was impressed. Hannibal had been slowly ‘courting’ him. He had read about this particular aspect of the alien culture. And was surprised when Hannibal both started exhibiting the behaviours, they had been briefed was part of this procedure, but also that Hannibal himself had openly declared his interest. Will had asked why. A curiosity he had wished he had just shut up and walked away now. Hannibal had presented him with an animal, a prize from a ‘hunt’. Having declared that Will’s physical and mental prowess was a desirable trait in a mate, and in keeping with his people’s customs, had gifted him with a gesture of strength and cunning of his own. Will had just not expected that, Hannibal had _already_ been courting him, and that his real ‘prey’ was not of the animal variety. He had not known Cassie Boyle was equally as below him as an animal to Hannibal. Hannibal had shown up at the FBI with documents declaring his Alien ‘interest’ to federal authorities - as Will’s employers and one of the human race’s authority - and a saltwater crocodile, the likes of which Will had only seen in his childhood and brought back memories. 

The creepy thing was that the animal was still _very much alive_. Or at least it looked that way. Having been suspended in some kind of opaque light, frozen in time, jaws open and ready as if mid bite. Will had stared in shock as Hannibal politely smiled in that svelte way he always did and he had no choice but to accept. Jack would not allow him to refuse. Nor would the governments of the world, if they did not want to offend their ‘guests’. 

Will had been examining Hannibal’s sketches. At first, discussing with him in lively fashion of his study of human techniques of artistic expression and that he very much admired and embraced it. And their differences to his home world. Will had nervously laughed when he had brought that up and the now 16-foot crocodile in his living room, he had no idea what to do with. 

Then he had come across the sketch of the Wound Man. It had been an innocuous thing, Will had not even noticed it at first having been flipping through page after page of artistic nudity. But then it hit him, the way his pendulum always did, and his thoughts jumped to Jeremy Olmstead, then to Cassie Boyle. Victim after victim, fitting the pattern, fitting Hannibal. For how could there be anything like the Ripper but something otherworldly? 

Will’s breath must have caught, or his heart had skipped. Either way, the next thing Will knew, he was fighting for his life. Caught in the jaws of the beast and he had lashed and bashed his way to the door, only to be caught and dragged back into the room where strange alien devices lit up around him and all he saw was the backs of his eyes. 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal greeted pleasantly. Like it was just another day. Another day, Will walked into his office to find Hannibal sitting and waiting for him. Or a day, sitting in the waiting room of Hannibal’s official quarters – a large brick building he had been given by the US government. As if he was not strapped to some kind of operating table ready to be disembowelled and his organs harvested for offal. 

Will’s struggles began anew and Hannibal walked out of his sight, only to return and ladle water (at least it tasted like water) into Will’s mouth with some sophisticated device presumably designed for occasions such as these. Will choked on the fluid making its way down his throat, and he coughed up a storm as it flowed everywhere but where it was supposed to go. Hannibal let out tired sigh. And then reached out and presumably pressed something out of the corner of his eye, activating the machines around him. 

Will began thrashing uselessly against his restraints, panting in exertion and fear, and felt Hannibal’s hand grasp his in comfort. 

“Don’t be afraid, Will.” Hannibal whispers, that frustrating benign smile still beaming down at him. “It will be alright. The pain will be gone momentarily.” 

“That’s not why, and you know it!” Will grunted, unrelenting but tiring in his struggles. Hannibal moves to adjust something out of his field of view again. And this time, something touches Will gently on the arm and Will feels his body begin to grow numb and his body loosening against his will. Will’s panic ratchets up again and he starts to pants in fear. 

Hannibal moves back to Will’s head and rests his palm on Will’s forehead. Will looks back, digging deep into Hannibal’s wants and his vision for Will. He sees the machines opening him up, and Hannibal’s hands delving into him. Plump red organs are lifted out and gently cradled then discarded. But instead of the organs being the focus of Hannibal’s desire, it's what he _puts back in_ that has Hannibal’s interest. Will’s heart clenches in dread and horror imagining Hannibal’s imago of him and the reality that it could well happen. 

He starts to gasp, shallow and fast, struggling against the numbness and straps. Tears well in his eyes as Hannibal’s own grow soft with affection. 

“No... No, no... Please, Hannibal. Please, don’t.” Will begs, shaking his head in rejection and against Hannibal’s hand. 

“It will be alright, Will. I will never hurt you....” Hannibal reassured him. 

“No...” Will’s lip quivered. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t you crave change, Will? You humans are always changing. Always in flux. Your bodies grow and adapt. They mature until they plateau and then it peaks. And yet, your kind always seek further change and new things. Always seeking and always fighting stagnation and never achieving it. You fight amongst yourselves against the slightest change and yet change isn’t happening fast enough. Don’t you want to _become_ something more, Will? I can make that happen. _We_ can make happen...” Hannibal whispers ominously. Will does not have time to ponder what that means – the aliens’ true purpose on Earth, or just Hannibal and his creepy imagination. 

“No, I don’t, Hannibal.” Will grunts. “Not like this. Please, Hannibal. Please, stop this.” Will pleads. 

“Oh, Will...” Hannibal strokes at his forehead, where the final cut will go. “You were already becoming. You just lack the motivation and technology to do so...” 

Will struggles fruitlessly against Hannibal’s words anyway, panting and grunting, heart racing rapidly like a rabbit in a trap. 

“No... no...” Will moans in dread as he starts to feel the numbness reach his eyes and his vision start to darken. Hannibal looks so far away and dark and yet right in his face and that damn smile is still fixed there. 

“No....” Will murmurs, mouth slacking. 

“Shhh.... Close your eyes, Will. Drift into the quiet of your stream....” 

“It will be over before you know it...”

**Author's Note:**

> Takes some inpspiration from the few episodes of that one 2009 tv series V
> 
> Never got too far cos it was quite shit.


End file.
